


Playing Doctor

by heathenpesticide



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Enemas, Established Relationship, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Medical Kink, PW Era/Pre-TPP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Spanking, Subspace, Suppositories, light mentions of bathroom use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 07:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11459091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heathenpesticide/pseuds/heathenpesticide
Summary: god I'm so sorry for this





	Playing Doctor

Kaz has traversed the administrative corridor precisely five times. By the third time, he'd run out of things to pretend to busy himself with. 

He didn't really have a plan of action here. It's routine for the XO to regularly check up on the medical platform, and a part of him had hoped things would just progress organically from there, somehow. That he wouldn't have to initiate that awkward conversation, that he wouldn't have to gather up the courage to ask for something he's been thinking about for days.

And christ, he's jerked off to nothing else for  _weeks_. He's not accustomed to being this shy about a goddamned kink, but he'd be dead before he let something as petty as embarrassment get in the way of the most monumental orgasm he's had in his  _life_. 

The sixth time he passes the chief of staff's office, Ronan's voice carries after him into the hallway: "Something you need, Commander?" 

The medic's tone has the slightly detached current of someone absorbed in work, but to Kaz, it sounds almost like an accusation. Or maybe he's just embarrassed he got caught, that he was being so obvious. Wilted, he turns and creeps in with all the bravado of a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. He's grateful there's no one else around, even more grateful that Ronan must sense this uncertainty about him and remains seated rather than springing to his feet with a salute. Kaz isn't sure he wants that kind of focused attention right now, and he abruptly settles himself into the chair in front of the desk with such jittery force that the leather sharply hisses out in protest under his weight. 

"You were pacing. The door opens every time it senses movement. It's distracting." From anyone else it might have sounded scolding, but Ronan says it with the twist of an affectionate smile.

"Should probably take a break," Kaz says, making an unconvincing attempt at feigning indifference.

Ronan keeps his head tilted over his notes, and his hand doesn't falter as his eyes cut upward, giving Kaz a cursory glance before shifting back down again. The scratching of his pen stops briefly as he shifts through leaflets of paper, and he uses the pause to idly gesture with his pen toward the couch against the wall. "You know you're always free to rest here if you wish to avoid interruptions."

Always so professional. Such poise, such premeditated control with him. The conditioned military discipline of a guy who's seen too much combat, too much trauma, someone whose entire job has always revolved around staying put together even in times of duress. It's a little unnerving, sometimes.

But even now with Kaz's entire body springloaded with nerves, it's an inviting offer - if not only for the fact that Kaz knows if he plays his cards right, acts especially saccharine and really hams up the exhausted commander act, it'll coax Ronan to come join him for a stolen midday nap once he's finished with his work. A sharp jolt of arousal shoots through his groin at the thought - more often than not, those midday naps lead to sleepy cuddles that result in Ronan's hand creeping down the front of Kaz's pants and a couple of nibble marks on his neck that make him appreciate the convenience of wearing a scarf. 

He shifts in his seat, trying to use the movement to adjust himself now that his pants feel especially constricting. All it takes is that initial twinge through his dick and there'd be no turning back, and he absently smooths his palm over his thigh as though it might offer some semblance of relief. It's really more of a nervous fidget, and he doesn't realize he's been bouncing his heel up and down like an anxious schoolkid until he feels the toe of Ronan's boot settle over his beneath the desk.

"Out with it," he says distantly, never looking up. "What'd you do this time?"

A heavy breath gusts out of him, something between an offended huff and a tense gasp. His knee-jerk response is to blurt out a petulant  _Nothing!_  but he realizes how guilty it would sound, so he just purses his lips and presses the sole of his boot to the floor, nervously drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. 

"You wound me, Ro," he says playfully, his tone tinged with just enough irony that he sounds at least mildly confident again. "Is that my reputation with you?"

The slightest of smirks pulls at the corner of Ronan's mouth, but he remains silent. The persistent scratching of the pen is making Kaz uneasy, but he manages to maintain what little composure he has left and closes his eyes, drawing a deep breath through his nose. He figures it'll be easier to ask if he doesn't have to make eye contact, even though Ronan wouldn't be able to see past the mirror of his shades anyway. Not that he seems to be paying all that much attention as it is.

"Well, it's just...remember that thing we did when I, uh, had an upset stomach and you...y'know, put water up inside me?" 

He flinches, the last words having come out too quickly, so it sounded nervous and slurred. 

"Mmhm."

Kaz snaps his eyes open and nervously inspects the medic's face. He's still as removed as ever, even looks vaguely  _bored_. A small heat flares up in his chest, the slightest hint of annoyance at the realization that Ronan probably isn't even listening.

" _Well_ ," he continues with flustered force, "I was wondering if we could, I don't know. Do it again. But...for fun." He flinches again, feeling his face go hot. 

Ronan calmly puts his pen down, straightens the papers, then leans back in his chair, idly resting his chin in his hand as he inspects Kaz from across the desk. Something flips in the center of Kaz's chest, and he has this irrational notion that Ronan can see right through the barrier of his sunglasses just as easily as he can always see right through  _him_.

But there's no judgment in the way he studies him, no surprise, not even a knowing smirk. Just an infuriatingly neutral expression that makes Kaz's heart stutter. Ronan's doing that thing again, that boyish habit of rocking gently in his chair when idle, and it's so subtle that it's almost imperceptible. It's at least a little comforting; a habitual quirk of his that suggests a playful impassivity that never fails to put Kaz at ease.

Ronan draws a pensive breath, then rises to his feet. "Well, we'd planned on it, didn't we?" he says casually, then reaches for his radio and hooks it to his belt. "Come see me in the inpatient wing at the end of my shift. It'll be more comfortable there and we'll have more privacy."

A small, panicked sound dies in Kaz's throat, an embarrassing squeak that he hopes is covered by his swift intake of breath. " _Today_?" he blurts out, making an effort to modulate his voice so that it doesn't go an octave higher out of nerves.

Ronan stops on his way to the door, then turns and fixes Kaz with a quizzical expression. "Would you prefer to schedule an appointment?"

It's not even asked in jest - he seems to be genuinely asking, and Kaz gets the sudden understanding that he's trying to figure out if this is a...a  _role play_  thing. But it's more the finality of the commitment that frightens Kaz - it was fun to toy with the idea of it, to frantically jerk off to the nebulous idea of doing it again  _someday_ , but now that the promise of it looms so close, he isn't sure whether to feel eager or anxious.

"No," he decides quickly, pulling himself to his full height as if that were ever a convincing display of confidence. "No, today is fine." 

He isn't sure if it's nerves or excitement that has his heart shuddering anxiously for the rest of the day, and his persistent erection of anticipation becomes something of an inconvenient nuisance. Ducking into the head for a quick yank doesn't help matters, and only makes him more jittery than he was before.

By the time he gets to the inpatient ward, he's panting and his legs are shaky. Truth be told, he doesn't make it to this area of the medical platform that often. The place gives him the creeps - it's where all the critically injured soldiers end up, and is more often than not sparsely occupied. For a small handful of soldiers, this was the last place they ever saw. He's not a superstitious man - not  _too_  much - but the place gives off a  _vibe_. The sterile scent of antiseptic and starch, that unnerving quiet accompanied only by the buzz of the lights and medical equipment. The rooms are more comfortable, at least, with thick doors and private bathrooms. Probably why it was suggested they do this here.

When Kaz asks for Heron - he nearly slips up, stutters around his real name at first - the recruit on watch at the receiving desk directs him to room eleven in a tone that sounds just as bored as she looks. It's at least reassuring in the discretion it implies. No one here is even paying attention. 

The room is thankfully a little more inviting, perhaps only because Ronan is already there, looking just as calm and welcoming as ever. 

"Commander," he says cordially, closing the distance between them and reaching up to affectionately tug Kaz's scarf loose. He frowns to himself, a pensive hum sounding in his throat. "Your breathing's a little labored, everything okay?" As if on instinct, his hands idly retreat to the stethoscope draped around his neck.

Kaz's heart skips and his hand flies up to his loosened scarf to feebly continue unfastening it, as though in response to his resolve being questioned. He's too out of breath to answer, so he only nods. 

"It's probably safe if I have a listen anyway," Ronan says, and he reaches forth again to gingerly slide Kaz's sunglasses off his face. It's done haltingly, like he's specifically mapping out every gesture so Kaz has enough time to tell him to stop if he's too uncomfortable. Not that Ronan's never seen him without them, but he might be the only person Kaz allows to spontaneously remove them. He realizes then that the lights have been noticeably dimmed just for him, and that thrill of anticipation that's had Kaz on edge all day surges distinctly in his groin.

He'd never admit it, but he secretly loves when Ronan gets like this. He loves being fussed over, in a sense, of having the nimble fingers of a doctor analyzing his body. Something about it is profoundly intimate; a sort of attentive tenderness that doesn't quite translate with something as crude and ordinary as sex.

It's a clumsy matter of getting out of his belt and holster, of unfastening his jacket, and his hands are trembling so much that Ronan has to calmly intervene. He half expects to be teased a little over it, but Ronan remains respectfully silent - it's just warm, gentle hands of encouragement helping him out of his clothes. Kaz eventually gives up his directionless fumbling and lets him take over, tilting his head downward in demure surrender as his pants are delicately eased down his thighs, a pair of fingers teasing into his briefs. He finds himself suppressing a smile; this is usually how Ronan undresses him when they're about to make love.

All things considered, that might yet be on the menu.

That twist of anxiety returns when he's steered toward the bed, but he's merely directed to sit for the moment, where his hand falls on a curious decorative pillow as he settles himself. It's one of those fancy cylindrical ones usually reserved for accessorizing ornate Victorian couches. It seems very out of place here, but the fabric is pleasantly soft, so he absently kneads his fingers into it for comfort. It helps, a little.

He emits a soft gasp when he feels the cold shock of the stethoscope against his chest, but Ronan's proximity has a natural calming effect, so Kaz just breathes and sits quietly as his medic listens. He gets the distinct impression that this is being done mostly for his benefit - a small, unnecessary preamble to ease him into his comfort zone. It's such a specifically  _Ronan_  thing to do that a small chuckle escapes him despite his nerves.  _Playing doctor_. Christ.

Ronan's eyes cut to his and the corner of his mouth tightens in a coy smile. "So how do you wanna do this?" he asks softly. "Clinical or sensual?" 

The question throws him a little - he's so rarely given such deliberate agency in sexual situations these days, and simply being given the option to set the tone for how this plays out almost makes him panic. He wonders if it's because he's been conditioned to find more comfort in having all of his decisions made  _for_  him, and he deflates on a long exhale.

Ronan's hand sweeps the stethoscope across his chest, patiently continuing to listen to his chest sounds as though it's just another routine examination. It's so like most of his visits any time Kaz needs medical attention and Ronan is the one treating him - something about his presence always makes Kaz instantly feel better, even before he's done anything. Like his very touch alone has healing properties.

Kaz deliberates for about three heartbeats, then breathes, "Sensual."

Ronan nods and the stethoscope is slung back over his neck, and then soft fingers are delicately probing at Kaz's jaw and throat, causing him to tilt his chin back in invitation. This is definitely just fanfare to get him relaxed, but he'll take it. 

"You're nervous," Ronan says after a short silence.

The fingers at his throat withdraw and Kaz drops his chin. "I could have hidden it better, but you cheated," he says, sourly eyeing the stethoscope. 

Ronan flashes another coy smile and gently touches his finger beneath Kaz's chin, prompting him to tilt his head back again. Kaz's eyes instantly flutter shut at the warm kiss placed at the corner of his mouth, unexpected but pleasant, making him instinctively part his lips for more. Little by little, he feels his anxiety recede, body going slack as Ronan suckles on his bottom lip.

This is good. This is pleasant. This no longer feels like an anxious visit to the doctor, but one of many soft moments stolen away with his medic. In such close proximity to Ronan's body heat, his broad hands resting on Kaz's naked thighs, their lips fitted snugly together, it doesn't feel quite as daunting anymore. Sometimes it's frustrating in how predictably pliable this sort of thing makes him, how tenderness of this nature is so startlingly alien to him that he still hasn't quite figured out how to respond to it.

When Kaz's trembling subsides, Ronan breaks away and presses a lingering kiss to his forehead, then grips him by the shoulders to ease him onto his back. Kaz complies a little too readily, and it becomes increasingly difficult to hide his erection, which is painfully obvious and exposed now that he's laid out on display. Ronan seems to ignore it and merely begins pressing his fingers into Kaz's belly, then gently palpates the area beneath his navel.

"What makes you nervous about it?" Ronan asks.

Kaz feels his face go pink and he shrugs, resisting the urge to rock his hips up into that delicate probing. 

"Are you afraid it's going to hurt? I didn't hurt you last time, did I?"

Kaz shakes his head. "Not - not really -  _hnn -_ " He gasps when Ronan's palm sweeps warmly over his stomach and chest, fingers grazing against his nipple before retreating to his belly again. 

"Hmm. Humiliation, then?" 

Kaz sighs and nearly rolls his eyes, but stops himself, thinking it would be too petulant. Too telling. This is the last thing he wants to have a conversation about. He'd rather just hide his face in the pillow and get on with it.

"It's just..." Kaz's eyes focus intently on the hand stroking him, an excuse to look anywhere but Ronan's face. "Bathroom stuff," he mumbles.

Ronan's gentle laugh is a little vexing in how dismissive it sounds, but his eyes are gentle and sincere. "I'm a professional," he says. "I've done this plenty of times, so you're completely safe. And I promise you're not going to show me anything I haven't seen before. If it makes you feel any better, a lot of people experience arousal during the process, even women. It's a lot more common than you think."

This makes Kaz perk up, and he flashes him an inquisitive look. "You've done this for women?"

Ronan raises an eyebrow, his expression momentarily hardening into one of consternation. "It's a standard medical procedure," he says flatly, and everything in his tone denotes finality. "Turn over."

Kaz's chest tightens but he promptly complies, hugging the quaint throw pillow to his chest and making no effort to stifle his moan when Ronan's fingers begin kneading into his back.

"Bowel movements today?" he questions, his fingers just lighting upon the slope of Kaz's bottom.

He's glad he's turned over, that his face is hidden. He's not used to talking so openly about these things, and he shakes his head and offers a feeble " _No_ " that's mostly muffled into the pillow.

Ronan sweeps his hand over Kaz's backside and slowly drags his palm up and down the back of his thigh, a gesture meant to placate. "That's okay. We can start out with a suppository first, if you like. It'll make the process a lot more enjoyable if you're relatively empty, so we can focus more comfortably on volume and retention."

Kaz grunts as he feels his face go radioactive, and he squirms under Ronan's calming touches, cursing his dick for twitching at the suggestion. This is a lot more than he bargained for. He doesn't know how Ronan can talk about this stuff so candidly. Part of being a doctor, he supposes. 

It isn't an objectionable offer, though - Kaz recalls the last time he was subject to one with an even mix of awkwardness and fondness.

It hadn't been negotiated and recreational, like this time. It was before he and Ronan were...whatever they are now. Back then it was still all coy, stolen glances and flirtatious smirks between them, the occasional fleeting interaction with tensely suggestive undertones. It was before they'd admitted mutual attraction for one another, but deep down, on some level, Kaz reckons they both already knew, even if they barely knew each other at the time.

Kaz had been unwell for days and in denial about it the whole time, until his symptoms finally got so bad that he caved and went seeking medical attention. Unfortunately, with such a consistent rotation of soldiers bringing pathogens from all over the world,  _everyone_  had come down with the bug at some point and the medical supply was significantly diminished as a result. With a regretful, sympathetic voice, an orderly informed Kaz that he could be treated, but the only option left was in the form of  _rectal administration_. He'd flinched and awkwardly looked away, but was told  _Not to worry, Heron is the medic on duty tonight, and he has an exceptional bedside manner._  

He'd felt like his guts had suddenly fallen out, and it had taken several dry swallows before he could answer, absently nodding consent to treatment. At the time, Kaz couldn't think of anything more humiliating, but even as awkward as the situation was, having an excuse to roll over for his favorite medic wasn't necessarily a  _bad_  thing.

His dick had been hard long before Ronan could even get to him, and by the time the medic stepped through the curtain, all poise and professional cordiality, Kaz's erection was a painfully conspicuous bulge in his pants. Ever the professional, Ronan pretended not to notice, maintaining a strict, clinical demeanor as he instructed Kaz to remove his pants and lie on his stomach.

He was such a tense hybrid of nerves and arousal that he could barely hear the medic's reassurances as he talked him through the procedure. All he registered was the snap of latex, the brush of fabric against his skin as the medic tugged the back of his briefs down, and then he was instinctively grinding his erection into the exam table as Ronan's gloved hand gently spread his cheeks apart.

He hadn't meant to. It was just a reflex, a subtle gyration of his hips at being touched so intimately and with such deliberate care. Feeling the air hit him back there, feeling so mercilessly exposed under such a delicate touch, his body had responded beyond his control. 

He could feel his face crimsoning at Ronan's soft chiding -  _I know it's uncomfortable, Commander, but you need to keep still for just a second_.

As though he genuinely believed Kaz's squirming was from  _discomfort_. As if he couldn't tell that Kaz was absolutely relishing an impending finger up his bottom. It took every ounce of self control not to moan at the first touch of Ronan's moistened finger at his hole, but there was no hiding the way his breathing slowed, the way he eagerly hiked his hips up for it. He didn't even need to be told to relax. He was already winking open and ready, and in the next instant, that finger was pressing the capsule into him, carefully sinking inward so that it was seated deep inside, where Ronan held it there to give it time to melt, his other hand resting gently on Kaz's tailbone to hold him steady. He'd imagined what that hand might feel like if it applied just a little more pressure, forcibly pinning him down while he struggled, perhaps. Kaz started squirming again, too caught up in the fantasy to worry about playing it cool. 

Ronan's chiding came again:  _Commander, if you don't hold still, we'll have to do this all over again_. Stern. Authoritative. Perhaps a little impatient.

The threat of it ended him. Kaz came right in his briefs, dizzy from the invasive sensation of the soft little pellet rooted inside him, clenching around Ronan's finger and mentally berating himself for not having better control. 

Ronan had, of course, pretended not to notice. They never spoke of it. 

"Commander?" he says now, his palm gliding softly over Kaz's bottom. "Yes or no?"

"Christ. Fuck," he groans through clenched teeth, wincing into the pillow as his cock twitches beneath him. " _Yes_."

"Very well, then."

Ronan must have been prepared for that answer, because Kaz immediately hears the crinkle of a wrapper. A fleeting sense of apprehensive doubt washes over him, he wonders if he really wants to do this, if he's just spiraling into further depths of depravity. It feels so obscene, or at least he thinks it  _should_ , but the way Ronan approaches everything with pragmatism and openness rather than shame, it strangely makes it more  _intimate_  than perverse. And how could it be - with Ronan's hand gently resting on his bottom again, touching,  _always touching_ , like he's making a specific point to not stop touching him, a continuous reassurance that Ronan is there with him, that Kaz is safe and this is entirely for him. 

"These are a little different from the last time," Ronan explains.

So  _now_  he mentions it.

"These are glycerin. They'll be a little thicker. Ah - can you spread your legs a little more for me?"

Kaz groans and parts his thighs, and it occurs to him that Ronan's hands are still gloveless - because this isn't a medical procedure, this is a sensual exploration of kink. He doesn't have to hide now, he has no need to control himself, to pretend he's not enjoying it, so he visibly hikes his hips up as Ronan spreads him open, slack-jawed as he breathes heavily into the pillow. 

"Very good. Stay relaxed, just like that," he praises, then dabs Kaz's opening with lube and slowly massages it in. 

He grinds his hips, swallows on the guttural sound that comes out of him. This wasn't done last time, so he knows Ronan is deliberately teasing him, killing him with unnecessarily drawn out foreplay. If Kaz isn't careful, he'll come before they can even get started.

Ronan gives a low chuckle. "I knew you were enjoying it. That first time."

Kaz winces.  _Of course_  Ronan knew, but Kaz is too flushed, too ready for what's about to happen to him to really bother with retroactive embarrassment right now. 

"That's why I've prepared two doses for you this time," Ronan continues, conspiratorial,  _teasing_. 

Kaz surfaces from the pillow just long enough to chance a glimpse over his shoulder, and Ronan's eyes dart up to his face. He flashes a warm smile and then Kaz feels the press of the cool little capsule at his opening, where Ronan holds it for an extended moment, keeping his eyes trained steadily on Kaz's face. His initial instinct is to look away, to hide his face in the pillow again, but he knows this is intentional, a way of confronting his shame. A way of reminding him it doesn't have to be shameful. It helps that Ronan's expression is nothing but warm encouragement, no judgment, and Kaz forces himself to maintain eye contact as the soft capsule is delicately pushed inside him, at least until the pleasure is so great that he can't help the way his eyes flutter shut as he nuzzles back into the pillow. 

Ronan's finger retreats sooner than he would have liked, but then the second capsule quickly follows, delicately nudging into him as though politely requesting entry. Kaz writhes into it, cock already leaking, and he bears down a little to make himself open up for the invading object. He's panting heavily, flexing his hips up in invitation, and the capsule is pushed in with such teasing slowness that he's half inclined to beg for it. These really are thicker than the last time, it's especially noticeable with the second one poised halfway inside him. He supposes that's why Ronan is drawing it out like this, so he can really appreciate the feeling, and he responds with a grateful moan when it's pushed completely inside. 

He's a little disappointed when Ronan withdraws his finger so soon, that he doesn't push them in as deeply as he did that first time. As embarrassing as it had been for him at the time, there was something profoundly erotic about the way Ronan had held the little pellet inside him, finger rooted as deep as it could go, and he whimpers at how vulgar it feels just to think about it. He can feel both of them inside him now, seated just inside his rectum, invasive and bothersome. 

He cracks one eye open and watches as Ronan washes his hands, then crosses back over to him and reaches for the medical grade electronic thermometer mounted on the wall among the other medical instruments. 

 _Oh_.

Kaz groans as he realizes exactly where it's about to go.  _Fuck_. 

"Is this okay?" Ronan asks softly, and Kaz hears the soft beep as the device is turned on. 

He answers with another groan, nodding assent into the pillow. This is too much.

"If there's anything you're uncomfortable with, just say the word," he says, and Kaz peeks over the pillow to watch him prod the thermometer into the probe well to sheathe it in a sterile sleeve. 

Kaz exhales heavily through his nose, and he promptly feels his cheeks spread apart before the tapered probe slides into him, pushing the thick little bullets deeper inside. 

"Christ,  _Ro_ ," he growls, and he realizes from the dampness against his face that he's been drooling. 

"Just lie still," he instructs. 

Kaz folds his forearms in front of him and rests his face on them, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. They haven't even started yet and he's already a drooling goddamn mess. 

"Bet you'll tell me this way gives a more accurate temperature reading," Kaz mumbles.

"Well. It does, actually." 

Kaz intends to say something witty, but all that comes out of him is a strangled  _hnnnggh_  as Ronan gently pushes the thermometer in deeper and gives it a small twist. His breath catches and he stiffens -  _fuck, he's gonna come -_  he's so close and Ronan's pushing a goddamn probe up his bottom that's nudging dangerously close to his prostate and he's not going to last long enough to get to the good part. Something akin to a sob gusts out of him, he's drooling again and his heart is racing so frantically that it's making him dizzy.

"Kaz?" Ronan says gently. "Just breathe. I know you're close. It's okay if you come, we've got plenty of time. Doesn't mean we have to stop, we can just wait out your refractory period and keep going, if you like."

This calms him somewhat, and he gusts out a shuddering breath. He barely registers the beeping that indicates the thermometer has rendered a reading, but he manages to get his breathing back under control, and the urgency of release isn't so overwhelming anymore. His cock is still twitching and leaking, he's terrified of easing his hips into the mattress for fear of any contact setting him off, but he relaxes enough to remember that  _this is all for him_. There's no need for control, this isn't a punishment or a necessary medical procedure. He can make all the noise he wants, he doesn't have to concern himself with endurance. He wonders with mixed horror and fascination at how many times Ronan will make him come tonight. 

The probe gently drags out of him and he breathes a shaky hum of surrender. 

"Well, you're a little warmer than you should be, but all things considered, I think that's to be expected," Ronan says playfully, then releases the probe cover into the trash and returns the thermometer to the wall mount. His hand goes to Kaz's back and begins rubbing. "Those suppositories don't take long to take effect, you can go to the bathroom whenever you need to."

Kaz moans and nods, shifting so that he's clutching the pillow again. The rubbing is pleasant and distracting, soft little caresses radiating over his lower back and up his sides, then stroking along his spine, massaging the space between his shoulder blades. He melts under that touch, easing his hips into the mattress until he's shamelessly rubbing himself out. He's given up trying not to lose control. He knows if he finishes, Ronan will just massage him until he gets hard again anyway.

"That's it, you can let go," Ronan encourages, and his fingers knead the tension out of his backside before creeping up to his back again. "It's alright, you can come if you need to."

Kaz presses his cock into the mattress, rubs himself against the soft covers as Ronan works his lower back, and he doesn't even have time to savor the building pressure of impending release before his cock spurts over the blanket, hurried and abrupt as he grunts obscenely into the pillow. Ronan's directed rubbing must have moved things along, because just as soon as he comes, he feels something shift in his gut and promptly springs for the bathroom on shaky legs before he's had the chance to relax in the afterglow of release.

By the time he comes back out, Ronan has had time to prepare everything. Kaz blanches when he sees the size of the bag hanging from the IV stand, bulging with what looks like an uncomfortably large volume.

"I can't - I can't take that much," Kaz stammers quickly, suddenly apprehensive about their arrangement and feeling especially self-conscious about his nakedness.

"We'll see," Ronan says. "And if you can't, that's okay. Take however much you can, we'll stop whenever you want." A thick, folded towel has been laid on the bed with the throw pillow positioned in the center of it, and Ronan nods toward it. "We'll start out face down this time, if that's okay? The pillow goes under your hips."

Kaz closes his eyes and sighs.  _Of course it does_. The thought of how vulnerable and exposed it will make him gets that twinge to return to his groin, and his cock is already thickening out again. It was silly to think that letting himself come would be the end of it.

Eyes lingering apprehensively on the bag, his hand goes subconsciously to his stomach as though to protect it. He can't imagine even half that amount going inside him being anything other than uncomfortable, and he's grateful it's only a couple of steps to the bed because he feels his legs might give out under him any moment.

Ronan stops him before he can climb back up, nudging a knuckle under his chin so that he's forced to meet his eyes.

"Hey," he says gently. "No shame." 

Kaz's face breaks into a weak smile and he nods. Ronan leans in and brushes his lips against his cheek, wrapping an arm around his back to draw him close. "You still want to do this?" he whispers, breath tickling Kaz's ear. "If you're too uncomfortable to continue, we don't have to."

"No, I want to do it," he says, and there's an almost frantic eagerness to his voice. "No shame," he echoes, and nuzzles into Ronan's neck. This tenderness really helps, really brings his courage back. It shouldn't be such a novelty, but just the understanding that Ronan operates so strictly on explicit consent is profoundly reassuring.

Ronan guides him back and presses another soft, lingering kiss to his lips before helping him back onto the bed, where he turns over and assumes the position. The throw pillow is firm enough that it really hikes his bottom up, and the standard pillow at the head of the bed is suspiciously dry on both sides. He's certain Ronan changed it out while he was in the bathroom. Like every small detail is meticulously addressed specifically for Kaz's comfort.

"You'll want to part your legs a bit," Ronan instructs, moving to the end of the bed to guide Kaz's ankles to where he wants them. It's a little thrilling to be manipulated like this, and the position really leaves him feeling exposed and helpless.

"Is this position comfortable for you?"

Kaz nods with a hum of contentment. His cock is hard again, pressing insistently against the pillow beneath him, and he idly rocks into it as he watches Ronan lube the nozzle. He doesn't really make a show of it, just does it with the detached efficiency of habit, but watching the preparation for what's about to go inside him sends a spike of adrenaline through him anyway. This nozzle is similar to the last one, a simple pipe nozzle with a slightly tapered head at the end, and looks a lot more suited for recreational enjoyment than medical use. It's about the width of his thumb, so he'll definitely have the luxury of feeling it without it being uncomfortable. 

His heart quickens when Ronan moves over him and softly caresses his bottom, a small, preparatory petting to calm him. Kaz decides he really prefers this position, that it's pleasantly comfortable, even as exposed as it is. He likes having his rear on display and so easily accessible, the vulnerability of being prone and defenseless, of not really being able to see what's being done to him. The absolute surrender of it has him feeling a little drowsy, so he's especially open and pliable when Ronan parts his cheeks and circles a lubed finger around his rim. It's a loving gesture, sweetly coaxing him open, and Kaz's pulse quickens when he feels the hard press of the nozzle finally sink into him. 

He's already drooling again, relishing the penetration,  _god_ , this is it. It's slow and careful, pushing into him at a pace that allows his muscles to adapt and yield to the invasion. The hand spreading him open slides up to his lower back and resumes the soft, circular massages from before, and Kaz arches under it as the shiver curls up his spine. The back rubs really seem to help, really facilitate the relaxation of his muscles to allow for smoother penetration.

He chokes a little, swallows thickly when Ronan slowly drags the nozzle back out and pushes it back in. Kaz thinks it hadn't initially gone in properly, that the angle needs to be adjusted, but then the gesture is repeated, slow and calculated, again and again.  _Christ, he's going to fuck him with the thing first_. He isn't sure if the sound that comes out of him is a moan or a whine.

"Is this okay?" Ronan asks again, and Kaz just nods eagerly into the pillow.

Ronan takes it slow, keeps it at a teasing rhythm that just misses his prostate each time, an agonizingly predictable pace in and out that keeps time with the palm caressing his back. Kaz's mouth falls slack, he's drooling shamelessly, body limp as he just lets it happen to him. He rocks his hips into the pillow underneath him, just needs a little friction, and Ronan's hand rubs rewarding caresses over his bottom as he gives the nozzle a few more hearty pumps into him before pushing it all the way in. 

"I'm starting the flow now," he says, voice deliberately subdued. "We'll take it nice and slow."

"Mmm," Kaz hums. It's the closest to an acknowledgement that he can manage.

He hears the soft click of the clamp and Ronan retreats momentarily to wash his hands again, returning with a bottle of something Kaz can't quite make out through his heavy-lidded daze. He doesn't really feel the water entering him at first, only a subtle temperature change building low in his gut, a small tickle like shy butterflies, and then the warmth slowly radiates through his belly, gravity drawing it deeper into him from the position he's holding.

Ronan clicks open the bottle and tilts it over Kaz's back, and he immediately feels the pleasant touch of massage oil, warming instantly with his skin. It's a comforting scent, neither masculine or feminine, not quite sweet, but not spice either. It smells vaguely of almond. Kaz hums a soft moan of approval, writhing under the first touch of Ronan's palm as it begins working the oil into his lower back, soft caresses deepening into concentrated massages. 

He's just starting to feel it now, a barely perceptible vibration beneath his navel as the water flows in. The unique position starts to make sense; the water will naturally be drawn higher into his gut and the pillow under his hips allows enough space for his belly to expand when he starts to fill up. His heart jumps at the thought - watching how it visibly changed his body was arguably his favorite part about last time.

"Doing alright? Do we need to stop?" 

Kaz vigorously shakes his head, body writhing as he rocks his hips harder into the pillow. 

Ronan gives a soft chuckle and keeps rubbing long, sweeping caresses over his lower back, then gradually moves downward and massages more oil into his bottom. "How's it feel?"

"Pleasant," he mumbles. "Different from last time. Tickles."

"Hmm, yeah, I should tell you, there's a little soap in this solution."

Kaz's heart shudders, and he hisses a sharp breath. "What?" he breathes, peering warily over his shoulder. "Is that gonna hurt?"

"Shouldn't," he says, meeting Kaz's eyes and reaching forward to brush a knuckle along his cheekbone. "Normally it might make retention a little difficult, but with as empty as you are right now, it shouldn't be too bad. You're gonna cramp a little, but that's kind of the point." He flashes a devious smile and gives Kaz's shoulder a warm squeeze. "But we'll rub those out as they happen. It'll just be a more intense feeling, is all. It'll definitely make the relief a lot more gratifying."

It's a little intimidating, but Kaz can't really argue with that. If he concentrates, he thinks he can almost feel a pronounced bubbling low in his bowels, but he isn't sure if it's real or psychosomatic. Mostly it's just a slow build of warmth, but he hasn't taken much volume yet. 

"Is there - could you - maybe increase the flow a little?" Kaz asks sheepishly, glancing back over his shoulder. There's a slight prickle of heat to his cheeks, but he's too turned on to let shame keep him from asking for what he wants. "Wanna really feel it," he mumbles.

"Of course." 

There's the metallic creak as the IV stand is shifted higher, and the change is instantly noticeable. There's a rush of warmth and pressure flooding his insides, and Kaz hikes his hips up for it, shameless and needy. He feels Ronan's hand at his bottom again, gripping the nozzle as though to adjust it, and he slowly drags it out before gently easing it back in. 

" _Ha_  -  _fuck_ ," Kaz pants, writhing under the sensation, a ripple of panic spiking through him at the sudden threat of losing control. He's still terrified of leaking before getting a chance to make it to the bathroom, and he isn't sure he'd be able to look Ronan in the eye ever again if that happened. 

Warm fingers knead into his back, placating him as the nozzle is slowly pumped into him. The urgency gradually dissipates as his muscles adjust, and then it's just a continuous shift of fluid entering him, a flow of warm water rhythmically washing over his prostate just right so that he's desperately thrusting his dick into the pillow. 

"Fuck -  _fuck, Ro, I'm gonna come_ ," he keens, and he isn't even sure he's coherent, it comes out so muffled and slurred.

"Go ahead, then," Ronan encourages.

The nozzle stops pumping into him and Ronan gently slides it home, easing it in as far as it can go. There's a tightening in his groin, an electric tension radiating through his pelvis, like a waking snake uncoiling slowly in his belly as the tidal wave of impending release wells up inside him, and he's rutting into the pillow under his hips, grunting obscenely with each thrust as the water fills up his insides. Soft fingers keep working his back, then slowly tickle up his spine and slide along his neck, where they curl around his face to cup his jaw. Kaz shifts, clutches that hand with both of his and nuzzles his nose into it, drags his lips along his wrist and presses an open-mouthed kiss there. It's needy and tender, and his final cries are muffled into Ronan's palm as he rides it out, cock erupting in spasms and moistening the pillow beneath him.  

"Need to take a break?" Ronan asks. His voice is low and soft and full of affection, speaking gently so as not to rouse Kaz from the lull of the aftershocks.

Kaz appreciates it. He nods feebly into Ronan's hand, which he thankfully doesn't withdraw as he shifts to clamp the tube closed with his free hand. Kaz pants and nuzzles into Ronan's palm, eyes blissfully closed as he breathes in the balmy scent of the massage oil still clinging to his skin, and Ronan swipes a soft caress over his cheek with the pad of his thumb. Kaz can feel the pulse in Ronan's wrist where it just rests beneath his lips, slow and steady and soothing. It's achingly pleasant, his own heart thrumming heavily in his chest as it slows, the water pooling in his belly with just enough weight to be noticeable, but not yet uncomfortable. He's still clenching around the nozzle inside him, still riding out sporadic aftershocks that ripple through him still. It feels good to just rest for a moment, even if the sticky wetness of semen clinging to him is mildly unpleasant.

"Ready to start again?" 

Kaz only manages an indecipherable moan, and he feels Ronan reach under him with his other hand, warm palm gently cupping his belly as though weighing it. It sends a delicious shudder through his groin already, instantly recollecting those divine belly rubs from last time, has him chasing after that touch and reflexively pressing his stomach into Ronan's hand. 

"Slow," Kaz mumbles. "Go slow."

The hands withdraw from his face and stomach and he hears the stand being adjusted again, followed by the click of the clamp. It's the subtlest of sensations as the water starts draining into him again at a light trickle, the buzzing of lethargic butterflies stirring once more in his belly. The drowsiness has really set in now, a heavy blanket of contentment engulfing him whole. It was an intense climax, and now he just wants to sleep and let the warm water massage his insides. 

"Still with me, Commander?" 

A hand smooths over his back and Kaz gives a lazy nod. The only thing keeping him from dropping off to sleep entirely is the understanding that Ronan will end the whole thing if he does.

More oil drips onto him and then Ronan's hand is cupping the bend of his knee, sweeping up the back of his thigh and over the curve of his ass, rubbing soft and slow over his bottom, repetitive and mellow as Kaz comes down. Then fingers are twirling in his hair, stroking his scalp until another shudder writhes down his spine, fingertips like soft moth wings tickling the back of his neck, just like the warm water tickles his insides. It's fitting, really, how Ronan can turn something so fundamentally kinky into an act of tenderness and care. Only he could do that.

Kaz is drifting in watery bliss when the pressure starts to build, a small knot in his left side at first, slowly inflating across his abdomen and growing into panicked urgency, a sudden fullness that makes him feel like he immediately needs the bathroom. He stiffens, and Ronan must hear his sharp gasp because his hand is sliding under his belly without even being prompted, pressing gently just as the cramp slices through him with enough intensity to draw a soft yelp out of him. 

"It's all right," Ronan soothes, deft fingers massaging across his stomach,  _right there_ , right where it hurts. 

"Fuck - Ro,  _hah_ \- "

"You're okay. The water pools in a bend of your intestine sometimes, it just needs to be helped along. Breathe, Commander. Slow and heavy, just like you were doing before."

He can really feel the soap now, a light sting that's just perceptible enough to be stimulating, accompanied by a growing sense of fullness. It would be bothersome if Ronan wasn't so good at rubbing the cramps out of his belly, and it's those soft, directed caresses that encourage him through the discomfort. 

"Remember to relax your abdominal muscles," he says, giving Kaz's stomach a light, affectionate squeeze. "Do we need to stop again?"

Kaz pants for a moment, breathing heavily through the dissipating cramp, which dissolves almost instantly underneath Ronan's practiced touch. His other hand is flat in the small of his back so that Kaz's middle is sandwiched between them, and something about that alone is immensely comforting. He shakes his head, exhaling a strained sigh. He can really feel himself starting to fill up now, but now that the discomfort has passed, he's not quite ready to stop. 

"Wanna turn over?" 

Kaz gives a lethargic nod. The tube is momentarily clamped off and the pillow under his hips is pulled away, and Ronan maintains a continuous massage on his belly as he eases onto his side, then rolls onto his back. He's a little mortified at how he can actually  _hear_  the water inside him when he moves, can feel the weight of it shifting with the change in position. His own hand protectively flies to his stomach, fingers grazing softly over Ronan's as he whimpers on a soft exhale. 

"It's alright, I've got you. Just lie back and let your body adjust," he says, palm pressing sweetly against Kaz's stomach. 

He's almost too afraid to look, but chances a glance down at his stomach anyway. There's already a noticeable bulge beneath Ronan's hand, and the sight of it nearly ends him. His eyes roll back and he lets his head drop back into the pillow, a soft moan carried on each heavy exhale as slow circles are massaged into his belly. The water is running into him again now, a slow and almost imperceptible trickle that feels like a consistently growing warmth seeping into every bend of his gut, filling him completely. His cock had thickened out again somewhere during those first belly rubs, and now it bobs against Ronan's knuckles with each rhythmic caress, jumping at the slightest promise of contact. 

"Any pain?" 

Kaz shakes his head. "Getting full, but I'm okay."

"Tell me when you need to stop. You know you don't have to take all of it, just whatever you can handle."

Kaz chances an apprehensive peek upward and is surprised to see that the level of the solution in the bag has been reduced significantly. His heart jumps, just knowing that much is already inside him, but the mere idea of taking the rest of it makes him panic a little. 

"Fuck. That's...a lot of water," he pants, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Almost two quarts in you now," Ronan says. "That's actually pretty impressive, especially for a beginner. The most I've ever been able to take is four."

Kaz's eyes snap open. Hearing that two quarts is inside him was overwhelming enough, but this new information causes some peculiar emotion to spike through him. Excitement, curiosity, something else. It's perplexing and a little maddening that Ronan just drops this information so candidly, like he's commenting on something as mundane as the weather.

"Four... _quarts_?" Kaz challenges, closely inspecting his face, which is just as removed and casual as always.

He offers a quaint nod, then shifts his eyes from Kaz's belly to his face and flashes a coy smile. "Not that it was easy. You want to see me removed to tears, that'll do it. It was a pretty sensational test of endurance."

Kaz could swear he sees the hint of a blush to Ronan's cheeks, an endearingly sheepish smile as he lowers his eyelids. It's unfortunate that he doesn't really get to indulge in it for long because he feels the growing pressure of another cramp coming on, the warning shift in his gut that has his body already tensing in anticipation. It starts out as a queasy discomfort that borders on fullness and urgency, then slowly builds into a pressure so intense that he forgets to breathe. A thin mewl comes out of him and he screws his eyes shut, but Ronan's hand is reliably there, sweeping gentle rubs across his expanding belly until the pain melts away. He shudders as the water is pushed higher into him, relaxing once more on a long exhale. He won't be able to take much more. 

"So when did this happen? Your... _test of endurance_ ," Kaz echoes, and his voice sounds small and frail, jittery with arousal and exertion.

"Rami and I used to play with them pretty regularly," he answers simply, and his palm continues to knead across Kaz's stomach, absorbed in this small task of massaging him.

Kaz's chest tightens and he can't find his voice for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Ronan rarely ever talks about his old partner. Any time he opens up about him, it's always raw and bittersweet, but somehow it makes Kaz feel so close to him, just hearing him talk about this sore spot he's buried away. Right now he's torn between morbid curiosity and feeling like he should apologize for asking.

"Why - why take so much?" Kaz gasps, wincing again. He's having a hard time focusing. Between the blissful circles Ronan is rubbing into his belly and the stress of feeling impossibly full, he can barely find the stamina to speak.

Ronan shrugs, palm ghosting over Kaz's cock and back to his belly again. "Pushing boundaries. An exercise in trust. This is arguably the most intimate thing you can do with a partner...really brings you closer together. It can be really cathartic just to let yourself go sometimes, to relinquish all control of such a personal bodily function to someone else. Allow yourself to be that vulnerable. It certainly required a lot of aftercare, I'll tell you that much." That sheepish smile flickers across his lips again, and he seems to be avoiding Kaz's eyes. It's something of a novelty, seeing him so demure like this.

It really makes Kaz think for a moment, and he falls thoughtfully silent as he lets those words sink in.  _Relinquish control of such a personal bodily function_. Kaz never bothered to think too hard on it, why something like this would turn him on so much. He figured it just felt good, but he'd been too afraid to really mull over the psychological aspects of it. Humiliating, but simultaneously invigorating. 

"I like having you take care of me," Kaz admits between heavy breaths. "Like feeling full." 

"That's usually the appeal," Ronan agrees. "It can be a very transcendent activity for men...the way it simulates pregnancy, in a sense. A symbol of sexual completion, perhaps," he muses. 

It's a startling insight, and Kaz's hand instinctively goes to his stomach as he considers it. He thinks about how fleetingly emasculated it made him feel last time, but then how gratifying and comforting it had been, nonetheless. How it really strengthened his trust in Ronan. 

"I'd do it," he says timidly, heart shuddering nervously as his eyes flit to Ronan's face and back down again. "If it was...if men could...I'd carry your baby."

The moment he says it, he regrets it. It had been sentimental in his head, an impulsive thought, but it sounds incredibly absurd and hammy said aloud. He flinches away, turning his head aside and wishing he could hide in the pillow again. 

"Hey - it's okay." Two fingers touch Kaz's chin and he wearily reopens his eyes. There's no judgment in Ronan's expression, just warm encouragement. "No shame, remember? That's - " he lowers his eyelids, flashing another demure smile. "I'd like that." 

His hand slows to a stop on Kaz's stomach, like he's savoring the feeling of it beneath his palm, then gives it a gentle squeeze and lazily starts stroking Kaz's ribs. He bumps his fingers over each one, tracing them, then begins circling the pads of his thumbs around his nipples, just enough to make Kaz arch his back and gasp for breath. It feels good,  _too good_ , but his stomach is getting tight, the bubbling inside him becoming intense and bothersome, he sucks in a small breath and his hand wraps desperately around Ronan's wrist --

"Can we - can we stop? Can't take anymore," Kaz pants, stiffening when the pressure becomes too intense. He feels like the fluid inside him is pressing against his lungs, he's so full. 

Ronan smooths his palm back down to Kaz's belly and calmly reaches over to clamp the hose. The vibration in his bowels stops, but it doesn't help the uncomfortable fullness. He can feel each heavy pound of his heart radiating through the water inside him, an insistent reminder of how helpless he is. 

"I know you really need to go, but do you think you can hold it for me? Just for a little bit."

It's such a polite request that Kaz can't say no, so he nods with a desperate mewl, eyes squinted shut in concentration.

His heart skips when he hears another soft click, fleetingly afraid that the clamp has been reopened, but then he feels the soothing drip of massage oil on his belly, followed by the tentative touch of delicate fingertips. 

 _Fuck_. This is really too much.

There's something so sweet and considerate in the way Ronan consciously avoids applying too much pressure to his stomach, how he uses the lightest of touches to massage the oil into him, applying just enough pressure to allay any discomfort. Kaz's guts are churning, he can still hear the water bubbling inside him, but Ronan continues petting him, smoothing oil into his swollen belly with a steady palm. His hands slide upward, thumbing at Kaz's ribs, then he drags his fingers back down to teasingly circle a finger around his navel. Despite the urgency in his bowels, it's strangely relaxing. He can't decide if he wants to make a mad dash for the bathroom or lie still for another half hour and just enjoy those divine rubs.

Another click of the bottle and more oil is applied to his lower abdomen, and his body jerks when Ronan's hand wraps around his cock. Even through the discomfort, it's still rock hard and bobbing against his swollen middle, and he can't help the way his hips tilt upward in search of more contact. The slick touch of oil on his dick is so blissful it's almost obscene, and Ronan knows exactly how to work him, one hand still rubbing his stomach while the other strokes his cock. Cramps ripple continuously through his gut but he's  _so close_ , he's afraid to thrust his hips up with the urgency welling up in his belly, but just a couple more strokes and he's done.

Ronan gives him a firm squeeze, followed by a subtle twist at the head, and tears spring into his eyes as he spills messily over Ronan's hand, his own hand protectively clutching his belly. It's such an intense sensation that it wrecks his emotions a little, his head going fuzzy from the overstimulation, and he doesn't recognize the whimpers coming out of him. The release has him terrified that he won't be able to hold the water inside him, and he swears he can feel himself leaking a little already. It's a little disheartening that he won't be able to relax through the aftershocks, and he hopes his legs will be reliable enough to get him to the bathroom in time. 

"Ro - I gotta - gotta go  _now_ ," he says, and it's almost a sob.

"Okay. Hold still for just a second while I take the nozzle out. You're fine, it's okay if you leak a little. It happens."

Another whimper comes out of him when a damp cloth is swiped over his belly, cleaning away the semen he'd just spilled on himself as Ronan reaches down between his legs and gently slides the nozzle out of him. He's grateful for the towel underneath him, but his face burns in shame when he can't help the small amount of water that spills out of him. Ronan reassures him with a soft nuzzle to his temple as he helps him up, and Kaz clutches an arm around his middle as he dashes to the bathroom and barricades himself in, with Ronan's hurried advice of " _Don't strain yourself, just let your body empty naturally_ " chasing behind him. 

Ronan really wasn't kidding about the relief being more gratifying. Kaz is caught somewhere between  _unpleasant_  and  _refreshed_ , feeling like a deflating balloon, and he really notices the difference the soap solution made this time. His stomach goes through various degrees of shifting as everything leaves his body, and he could swear more fluid comes out than what went in. 

When he's done, he thoroughly cleans himself off and shyly reemerges to Ronan smoothing the sheets on the bed and adjusting the pillow. The equipment has been disposed of and the towel and throw pillow are gone, and Kaz apprehensively approaches the bed when Ronan nods toward it.

"Lie back," he instructs. "You feel like you're done now, but trust me, you aren't."

His tone is soft and empathetic, but it still sounds intimidating. Kaz thinks there's no way there's still more water in him, but he'd rather err on the side of caution, so he reclaims his position on the bed and closes his eyes when Ronan's hands go to work on his stomach again. The kneading is more directed this time, a little firmer, pressing down in specific spots in his belly and working downward, like he's pushing the water back down. He alternates between rhythmic palpation and those soft caresses from before, and it's a little infuriating how quickly Kaz's body responds, how he already feels the twinge spike through his dick when he's sure he'll be spent for another week. He still can't quite get hard yet, but it's a pleasant buzz of distant arousal in his groin. His hand twitches hesitantly downward, but he clenches his fist and stops himself.

"It's okay, you can touch yourself," Ronan encourages. "Go ahead. This is all for you, Commander."

He inhales sharply against the sudden swell of affection in his chest, puzzling at the way this small approval brings the sting of tears to his eyes. He really must be an emotional wreck right now if something that trivial chokes him up.

 _No shame_.

This is so dramatically divorced from his typical experiences with men, instances where humiliation and domination were usually the main objective, that it fucks with his head a little. He doesn't know what to do with so much freedom.

"Commander? Still doing okay?"

Kaz sniffs and nods quickly. "Just really like the rubbing," he mumbles. 

An earnest circle is rubbed into him in response, and Ronan's fingers wrap around Kaz's wrist to guide his hand down between his legs. He tentatively sifts though his pubic hair, unsure, fingers lighting on his softened cock. It's more an idle fidgeting than anything, just continuous contact to keep himself occupied. His mind wanders, floating in a haze of contentment and satisfaction. He can't stop thinking about what Ronan told him earlier, that he and his husband used to play like this regularly, that he'd...been on the receiving end of this. His heart quickens just trying to envision it. He finds himself wanting to ask more, to grill him with prying questions even though he's too embarrassed to vocalize them.

"Did it hurt a lot?" Kaz asks suddenly, shocked that the words are tumbling out of him so quickly. 

"Pardon?"

Kaz blushes, hand receding from his cock so he can brush his fingers over Ronan's. "Taking four quarts. Sounds like it would hurt."

He shrugs. "It did, a little. That was...kind of the goal. But I'd worked up to that volume with training. Plus it's a little easier when you're using a colon tube."

Kaz curiously lifts up from the pillow. "A...colon tube?"

A gentle hand in the center of his chest pushes him back down, and Ronan flashes him a devious smile. "Thirty inches of soft tubing, all of which goes up inside you." He playfully taps Kaz's belly and continues rubbing.

" _What_?" he breathes. It sounds so incredibly invasive that it has his stomach twisting uncomfortably, but another pronounced shock of arousal pulses through his dick at the thought.

"Mhmm." He keeps pressing his hands into Kaz's belly, sweeping his palm from rib cage to navel in long, slow circles that have Kaz's hips jumping upward again. "You feel the water a little less as you're filling up, so it makes it a lot easier to take larger volumes. You have to be especially careful with it, though. Since it's a length of tubing that winds all the way through your intestine, you have to make sure you're doing it with, perhaps, a medical professional to ensure you don't puncture anything." He says it with the quirk of a cocky smile, and Kaz can't help but smile back.

"What, uh...does that even feel like?"

"Pretty fucking amazing," he admits, and the subtlest shade of pink flushes his cheeks. "Especially when all that tubing is being drawn back out. It's pretty intense."

"Holy  _fuck_ ," Kaz whispers, eyes fluttering shut. He arcs his hips up again, and he can already feel the pulses through his dick, even as spent as he is. He's torn on asking if they can try it sometime, even if the thought of the entire procedure intimidates the living piss out of him. _Thirty inches_. 

He shudders, leans up into Ronan's careful rubbing, and then there's another uncomfortable shift in his gut, the growing pressure of urgency, and he springs up and heads for the bathroom again. Thankfully the second time around isn't quite as distressing.

He doesn't feel any less awkward when he's done, and he isn't sure how to wrap up something like this. Get dressed, thank his medic for a good time and get back to work? Go have a cigarette and a coffee with the Boss? He's not even sure he's ready to face anyone else right now, too protective of this secret indulgence, paranoid that everyone might secretly know what he's been up to. He really just wants to hide away in his quarters, turn the lights off and reflect on his strange sexual appetites alone in the dark. Work himself out of this dark shadow of shame he's cast over himself. 

He's reaching for his clothes when Ronan wraps an arm around his waist and whispers a soft " _Not yet_ " against his ear. Of course it would be silly to think that was the last of it. And honestly, he's glad it isn't. He feels a lot less... _deviant_  in Ronan's presence. Safer, like it's okay to be turned on by weird shit. Admittedly, he's not quite ready to be alone yet, and maybe that's the point. He knows how meticulous Ronan is about aftercare.

"Can you bend over the bed for me?" he asks, brushing an encouraging kiss against his jawline.

It makes it so much easier when it's  _Can you_  rather than a command. His heart gives an anxious jolt, but his mouth tightens in a coy smile as he wordlessly moves into position. He's becoming more and more comfortable the longer they draw this out, and the bed is high enough that he can comfortably bend at the waist and rest his cheek on his folded forearms as he puts himself on display.

Ronan's hand brushes a soft caress over his bottom, then delicately parts his cheeks. A low hum rumbles in Kaz's chest, and then he feels the damp cloth against him again, moist warmth licking over his balls, his perineum, and then carefully swiping over his asshole, dabbing around the rim.  _Wiping him clean_. 

His face goes hot again, and he lifts his head a little to glance over his shoulder. He isn't sure if this is Ronan being thorough and exceptionally sanitary or just more added fanfare for his benefit. Either way, it seems to plunge him ever further into...whatever this is he feels when they do this kind of stuff. It's a curious emotion he isn't sure has a name. Something between humbled and trusting, vulnerable but safe at the same time. A lethargic detachment from the real world, a place where it feels  _good_  to be a little humiliated, to surrender control. It's especially relaxing, almost like being high but without all the unpleasant side effects. 

"Just wanted to make sure there wasn't any irritation," he says, giving Kaz's bottom another rewarding rub. "Ready for the rinse?"

Kaz's heart does another uncomfortable jolt that sends a rush straight through his groin. "You - you're gonna...put more water in me?" 

"Only if you want to," he says, lightly stroking Kaz's spine. "If you're done, then we can be done. But it'll feel really good to rinse out any soap left in you. Just plain water, low volume, nothing as much as we just did."

Kaz considers it, closes his eyes and sighs under the fingers caressing his back. His cock has thickened out again, and it presses insistently against the side of the bed. He's nodding into his forearms before he's even consciously made the decision.

"Is that a yes?" 

"Yes," Kaz whispers. "... _Please_."

He hadn't meant to say that last part. His chest feels hollow, shame clawing its way into the pit of his stomach at the realization that he's reduced to  _begging_  now. Like he's surrendered any control or rational thought to the whims of perpetual arousal and it has him acting purely on autopilot. 

"Okay," Ronan says in a hushed voice. He's drawing little wispy circles into Kaz's back, then he stops and rests his palm on his tailbone. "You can get up if you like, just sit tight for a second."

"Hmm," Kaz grunts, closing his eyes and drawing a heavy breath through his nose. "Think I'll stay like this for a bit, actually."  

He relishes being exposed and bent over like this, already so turned on again that he doesn't quite trust his legs to work. He's shaking a little, but this time it's less nerves and more excitement. It's pleasantly relaxing to just shut off and rest like this, listening to the curious sounds of Ronan making all the necessary preparations. He hears a cabinet door opening and closing, the sound of a wrapper and a box being opened, running water. When he feels Ronan's warmth behind him again, he lethargically straightens and moves to settle himself back on the bed, but Ronan stops him with a hand on his hip.

"We'll be doing this one a little differently," he says, then reaches over to fiddle with the controls that lower the elevation of the bed. "You'll be going over my lap this time."

Kaz groans, pitching forward so that his face finds Ronan's shoulder. It draws a charmed laugh out of him, and his arm closes tightly around Kaz's back, cocooning him in protective warmth. 

"Was that a good groan or a bad groan?" he asks. 

"Good. I think," Kaz mumbles. "How the fuck do you think up some of this shit?"

"Just drawing from experience." 

Kaz's dick pulses with another fleeting spike of excitement and curiosity, the reminder that  _Ronan's had this done to him_ , the thrill of trying to envision it. His heart is throbbing so hard he's sure it's making his entire body visibly convulse, but Ronan holds him still, arm clamped around him to steady him. As though on instinct, Kaz's mouth finds Ronan's neck and he parts his lips there, brushing some lazy approximation of a kiss over his pulse, letting him feel the heat of his breath.

A pleased hum vibrates low in Ronan's chest and he brings both arms around Kaz's back, giving him a gentle squeeze. "Still want to continue?" he asks. "It's entirely up to you."

Raspy and breathless and muffled in the crook of Ronan's neck, Kaz's sheepish mumble is barely coherent. " _Fill me up_." 

Just saying it aloud makes him feel so depraved, but a hot spike of arousal surges through his dick anyway. He reaches down, unthinking, brushes his fingers over his erection, gives himself an absent tug without realizing he's doing it. He's sinking further and further into this total abandon, losing all inhibition, delirious, like his head isn't screwed on straight and he isn't entirely in control of his actions. He's only vaguely aware of Ronan sinking down onto the bed, and Kaz lets himself be guided across his lap. It's comfortable enough, his chest resting against the mattress, legs stretched out behind him, hips propped up on Ronan's thigh, dick pressing blissfully against it. There's enough room for his belly to be cradled between Ronan's legs, and he knows that's intentional. 

He rests his cheek on his forearms and breathes, heavy and slow, preparing himself. Ronan's hand is in the small of his back, rubbing those soft circles again, then smooths over the curve of his ass. Kaz jerks a little when Ronan gives him a couple of firm smacks - nothing too sharp, just healthy swats to keep him calm, to warm his rear. He ruts his dick into Ronan's thigh, hiking his bottom up in request for more. Ronan laughs under his breath and gives it to him, hearty blows in rhythmic succession, predictable and evenly spaced enough to be pleasant, giving each cheek a firm squeeze in between each swat and stopping to rub his palm over pinking flesh. 

"Hng - you're -  _mmh_  - you're not gonna spank me while I've got water in me, are you?" Kaz asks, gasping between swats.

"Wasn't planning on it, but that could be arranged, if that's what you want." He draws the words out slowly enough to sound mischievous, and Kaz can hear the smile in his voice.

"Fuck," he pants. " _Fuck_."

More stinging slaps land on his rear, supple flesh bouncing beneath each strike. He wonders how soundproof the doors are, flinching at the resounding echoes of each smack, wondering if the soldier on desk duty in the receiving area can hear it. He's so lost in it that he's not sure he cares. Only when his bottom is sufficiently reddened do the spankings stop, and then his cheeks are carefully spread apart, followed by the slick drip of lube in the cleft of his ass. Moisture accumulates at the corner of his mouth, he's drooling again, but he doesn't bother wiping it away. 

A finger swipes over his hole, and he's already so relaxed and receptive that he feels himself responding naturally, opening up at the touch. It's soft and careful, the pad of Ronan's finger massaging lightly into him, swirling small circles while gradually applying pressure. Kaz is half tempted to push back, impale himself on that finger, greedy and insistent under Ronan's teasing, but he holds still, lets himself be probed open like this. His mouth hangs open, his breaths become shallow, he's already drooled rivulets across his forearm and it's starting to blot onto the blanket, messy and careless. The finger pushes into him past the knuckle, gently works in and out of him, then slowly withdraws. 

There's a short pause, followed by the curious sound of sucking water, and Kaz twists a little to look back. There's no bag this time, just a basin and a squeeze bulb. Everything that goes into him this time is entirely under Ronan's control, rather than the whims of gravity. Kaz groans and turns back, unfolding his arms so he can press his face directly into the mattress, fingers splayed out on either side of his head as his hands feebly clutch fistfuls of blanket. Something hard nudges at his opening, and a strangled moan dies in his throat when the nozzle slides into him. This one's thinner than the last one, and it slips in deep with little resistance. He immediately feels the rush of water inside him, warmth flooding his bowels, a more directed pressure than last time. It's a fast fill, flooding into him with gratifying swiftness, and when the bulb is emptied into him entirely, the nozzle withdraws only to be filled again.

Soft, soothing strokes to the small of his back keep him docile and helpless. This is definitely a calculated measure, the constant touching, Kaz is sure of it. It seems like the rubbing is moving the water along inside him too, helping it settle while holding him in place, just firm enough that he'd have to fight a little to wrest free, giving the illusion that he doesn't have a choice. It's a little invigorating, sending a flutter through his chest at the idea that he'll be done when Ronan decides he's taken enough. Then the nozzle slips in again, just deep enough so that the next squeeze has warm water rushing over his prostate just right, and his hips flex involuntarily, greedily rutting against Ronan's thigh. 

"Fuck, Ro, I think I'm gonna come," he warns, hips going immediately still when he feels the urgent tightening in his groin.

The water rushing inside him doesn't stop, and neither do those pleasant back rubs. "That's fine. Pants can be washed."

A whimper dies in his throat, but the tension slowly fades away into a consistent buzz radiating through his pelvis and belly, the heightened stimulation of continuous arousal. Ronan seems to be squeezing the water into him with pronounced slowness now, either teasing him or waiting for him to calm down. When his muscles finally go slack, the rest of the bulb empties inside him and withdraws, and there's another sucking sound as it's refilled.

Kaz considers asking how much more water is left, entertains the morbid curiosity of exactly how much volume he can take. He wants to take all of it, wants to challenge his endurance. He likes the added intimacy of being over Ronan's knee, feeling the comforting warmth of his thighs, the gentle steadiness of his palm resting on his back, the repeated insertion of the nozzle. He decides he likes it this way much better. Having it done this way makes it less finite, less predictable, less controlled. Almost like he's having fluid forcibly squeezed into him and he just has to take it. 

The thought of it draws a soft groan out of him that ends in a pleased hum when the nozzle pushes into him again. "Like the repeated insertion," he admits aloud. "It's -  _ah_  - more stimulating." He releases a long, slow exhale as more water rushes into him. 

"Mhm," Ronan agrees, sweeping a rewarding rub along the length of Kaz's spine before returning to the small of his back. "Figured I'd have you try both so you could decide which way you liked the most."

"How thorough of you," Kaz says. His voice sounds airy and dreamy, so unlike himself. 

The nozzle is pulled out of him again and refilled. The thudding of his heart feels especially heavy inside his chest, and he wonders if Ronan can feel the vibration of it through the mattress. He's balancing on the edge of sensory overload, body jittery and sensitive, head so fuzzy that he knows he'll need help to the bathroom because he'd never walk on his own at this point. 

"How's your tummy?" comes Ronan's soft voice above him. 

"Still okay," he mumbles. "Need more."

 _Need_.

"You've taken about a quart already." 

It's a little shocking to hear, and he shifts slightly just so he can feel the water moving inside him. It doesn't feel like that much. Not like it did with the soap. The nozzle slides in again and some vulgar sound comes out of him, guttural and shameless. 

"Make all the noise you need," Ronan encourages, and this time the nozzle pumps into him a few times, teasing his prostate, drawing more groans and whimpers out of him. 

The water starts trickling into him before the nozzle is all the way in, he can feel it threatening to leak out, and it's a continuous flow as the stem slowly sinks inside. A string of expletives tumble from Kaz's mouth, he isn't entirely conscious of what he's saying. Ronan laughs softly, never stopping those gentle caresses to his back, and through his delirious haze of pleasure, he distantly notices how Ronan slightly hikes his thigh up beneath his hips to give him a little extra friction. He chokes on gasping whimpers, a small, helpless yelp on each shallow breath he takes. He's close, but he doesn't want to come just yet. 

When the nozzle pulls out of him again, it doesn't immediately return. Ronan's hand comes back to rest on the soft curve of his bottom instead, other hand still firmly pressed into the small of his back, and Kaz hisses through his teeth when a swift smack lands on the thickest curve of his ass. He instinctively clenches up, terrified for a split second that he'll leak, a sharp gasp punching out of him from the strain. 

" _Holy fuck_ ," he breathes. His heart rate is up, his cock is painfully hard and leaking against Ronan's thigh, there's a very possible chance this might not end well but he's never felt so exhilarated in his life. He pants a few times, closes his eyes, steels himself. "Again," he whispers.

Ronan hikes his thigh up again to give him more friction, pausing a moment to rub delicate circles over his stinging behind. Kaz rolls his hips, meets the thrusts of Ronan's thigh, and then another smack lands across his ass. Another delicate rub, a short pause, another smack. It's an alternating rhythm, each blow evenly spaced like before, enough of a pause in between for Kaz to brace himself. There's an insignificant churn in his gut, not quite enough that he has to struggle to hold it all in, but enough to make him tense up. After a few resounding smacks that leave just enough of a lingering sting to make him squirm, the spankings stop and the rubbing resumes, a chill flushing his body as soft fingertips tickle the tender skin of his backside. He shivers, clenching up when pressure builds in his gut, and he holds his breath until it passes. 

He hears the suction again and the nozzle slips inside him once more. He squeezes his eyes shut, gritting his teeth against the impending urge to come as the water pours into him. A strangled whimper comes out of him as he struggles to hold it off, fighting with an overstimulated body on the edge of surrendering. He forces his mind to clear, focuses everything on his breathing, but yelps when the rubbing in the small of his back stops and Ronan reaches down between them, arm snaking underneath to weigh Kaz's belly in his palm. 

"Ro,  _please_..." he keens, writhing as he buries his face in the crook of his elbow. 

"Do we need to stop?"

"No," he gasps. "Just...I'm gonna come if you start with the belly rubs right now. Don't - don't wanna come yet."

The hand promptly leaves his stomach and returns to his back. There's a tremor in every whimper that comes out of him now, so pronounced that anyone within hearing range might think he's crying. He's completely unprepared when the spankings start in again, the first blow making him jump so that he nearly loses his balance and slides off. Ronan clamps his arm around Kaz's middle to hold him steady, free hand never pausing its assault on his backside. Kaz squirms again, the spankings are really making it difficult to maintain control, and the churning in his belly intensifies instantly. He swears he can already feel himself leaking, a barely perceptible drip sliding down his perineum, and Ronan must hear the shift in the pitch of his whimpering because the spanking immediately stops. 

"You're okay," he says, fingers lovingly stroking his smarting bottom. "Just relax, try to hold it in. We can take a break for a second."

His face feels damp, and he realizes he really is crying. It's rather puzzling because it doesn't really hurt  _that_  much, it's more of a nagging discomfort that's instantly soothed away by the sound of Ronan's voice. Kaz's breath catches as he forces himself to focus, to remember how to breathe, and he pulls himself together enough to wipe his eyes and mouth with the back of his hand. 

"Prolonged intense stimulation has some profound effects on your emotions," Ronan says, almost as though he can read Kaz's mind. "Your brain can't really process it sometimes. I wondered why I was crying my first time doing it recreationally, too." 

Kaz is silent, body trembling with short, shuddering breaths. It makes sense, once his head clears enough to think about it. Ronan's so good at this kind of stuff because he's been the receptive one plenty of times himself. And because he knows -  _knows_  things, things about the body and mind that most people don't. Perhaps that's why Kaz feels so safe doing these things with him. 

"Commander?" he presses softly. "Do you want to stop?"

"I don't know," Kaz whispers. He really just likes laying across Ronan's lap like this. He's certain that if he tries to stand, he'll collapse. 

"May I touch your stomach?"

Kaz nods plaintively into his arm, sniffling like a child. He arches up a little so Ronan can snake his arm down between them, and then tentative fingers ghost across his swollen belly, light and cautious, almost not touching him at all. His dick jumps at the contact, a desperate mewl finding its way up his throat. He's close, he's  _so close_ , he's terrified his cock will betray him and he'll make a mess of himself as hard as he fights against it, embarrassing and undignified even as tears stain his face, but Ronan seems to understand this and maintains a considerate lightness to every touch to keep from setting him off. The hand on his belly gradually applies pressure, then melts into a prolonged massage that momentarily relieves the churning inside him, lingering not a moment longer than it has to before withdrawing and returning to the small of his back, where he continues brushing those wispy little strokes from before.

"Think you can take one more for me?" Ronan asks.

Something flips in the center of Kaz's chest, and he struggles to find his voice.  _So much for low volume_. But he's in no mood to say no. He's feeling full again and he knows he's leaking a little, but he's not ready to stop just yet.

"Yes please," he whispers. 

A stuttering moan rattles out of him when the nozzle pushes into him again, tears of effort streaking down his face as he struggles not to spill what's already inside him. He'd been trying to count each bulb to keep track of how much he's taken, but somewhere after the second one he lost his head and went somewhere else.

The rubbing at his back becomes firmer, more direct, concentrated circles to keep the water moving higher inside him. It seems to be flowing into him slower than the first few times, like Ronan's taking extra care squeezing it into him now that he's getting full. He feels himself leak a little when the stem is drawn back out, a yelp of panic escaping him as he struggles to keep it all in. He wouldn't dare dash for the bathroom right now, he's sure to lose control, but he doesn't know how much longer he can hold it.

"Can you rub my belly again?" he asks, and his voice sounds startlingly timid.

Ronan wordlessly complies, hand slipping underneath him again to tenderly palm his stomach. Kaz tenses when he feels Ronan's other hand come to rest on his rear, but it's harmless, just tender caresses to soothe the lingering sting. 

"Tell me when you're ready for the bathroom," Ronan says. He keeps his voice especially low, like he's taking extra care to maintain an atmosphere of calm. 

"One more," Kaz gasps.

The rubbing on his backside and belly abruptly stops. "...Commander?" 

Kaz pants heavily, squirming across Ronan's lap. "Can I have one more? Please." It's almost a whine, but he's lost all hope for modesty or restraint. Or dignity, for that matter.

The rubbing picks back up again, like hesitant butterfly wings tickling his skin. "Kaz, are you sure?" 

"Is it -  _unh_  - is it safe?"

"It's safe."

"One more. Ah -  _fuck_. Want it to hurt."

The hand leaves his bottom, and Kaz winces at the familiar sound of suction that follows, even as it sends a pronounced shiver of excitement through him. 

"Deep breath, Commander." 

Kaz mechanically follows his instruction, lungs expanding with the closest to a satisfying breath he can take with as full as he is. He feels the tip of the nozzle pressing hesitantly against his opening, giving him time to prepare. 

"Slow exhale," he instructs. 

It helps. His stomach muscles relax, the tension and cramping in his belly subsides so that he doesn't have to work as hard to hold it all in. The nozzle eases inside him, and he's so full he barely feels the flow this time. Twitching spasms and cramps ripple across his belly, almost like he can feel the water inside him trying to find somewhere to go. He winces when a gurgling groan of protest sounds from his gut and he cringes, another flush heating his face.

"It's okay, noises happen," Ronan says, voice muted and sympathetic. 

The last of the water empties into him, and the object slowly withdraws from his body. He frantically clenches up, but not before a small amount of fluid trickles out, drawing a hoarse whine out of him. He's panting and sniffling uncontrollably, his face is wet again, he's caught between so many emotions that it's making him drowsy enough to feel sedated. Humiliation, discomfort, submission, pleasure, a dreamy sense of euphoria that comes with being so vulnerable and helpless with someone he trusts. It's overwhelmingly exhausting, and he's afraid he might pass out. There's still the warm drip of fluid tickling the underside of his balls and he panics, tensing his palms against the bed in preparation to push himself up and dash for the bathroom.

"It's alright," Ronan coos, fingers serenely stroking Kaz's bottom. "You're already clean inside, it'll just be water at this point. No need to worry."

The encouragement is comforting. The damp cloth is brought back to his rear, dabbing at his perineum and swiping up the cleft of his ass. He feels the warm fabric touch his puckered hole, soft and considerate, not too much pressure, gently stopping him up so he doesn't leak more. He makes a small choked sound, chest constricting at how loving the gesture is. He's never experienced intimacy like this in his life - knows that most people don't, even - and he doesn't know how to feel about it, doesn't feel like he can properly appreciate it. As desperately as he needs to go, he wants to just rest like this for a minute and let Ronan comfort him. 

"This is so embarrassing," Kaz whispers. 

"But you enjoy it?" It isn't a challenge, but rather a legitimate question, apprehensive and doubtful. As though Ronan is unsure, afraid that Kaz will regret this.

"Yes," Kaz whispers, another tear streaking down his cheek. "Is that fucked up? Am I fucked up?"

"Of course not." He says it dismissively, like it was silly to even ask, and his fingers are still sweetly stroking Kaz's spine and tracing over his bottom, a blissfully relaxing distraction. "If you really want to edge the humiliation factor, imagine evacuating in front of your partner," he adds. 

Kaz glances over his shoulder, heart skipping nervously. "You...have you?" 

Ronan flashes him a smirk and nods. "While being ordered to maintain eye contact through the whole thing."

Kaz gasps and turns his face back into the mattress. It sounds mortifying. ...But amazing. He's conflicted, terrified of the concept while morbidly curious to try it. But maybe not today. They'll have to work up to that in time.

"Really doesn't make much of a difference when it's just water coming out of you, but it really puts you in a unique headspace," Ronan continues. 

Kaz's dick jumps with another surge of arousal, and he rolls his hips, brazenly rutting against Ronan's thigh. The gentle stroking over his back never stops, the soft belly rubs resume, and when Ronan hikes his thigh up once more, Kaz is sobbing and drooling into the blanket beneath his face, a strained howl escaping him as his cock spurts over Ronan's pants. It's easily the most vulgar climax he's ever had, messy and uncontrolled and  _violent_ , his mind blinking white, and when the spots finally clear from his vision, he's crying softly again and unable to stop.

Ronan's fingers are still rhythmically stroking his back. Somehow he feels the understanding in that very touch alone, like Ronan knows exactly how he feels.

"I need to go to the bathroom," he whispers feebly. 

"Take it slow. Don't worry about leaking, it's just water."

It's a lot of effort for the three steps to the bathroom, but it's more reassuring with help. He reminds himself that Ronan does this kind of thing all the time, it's part of being a doctor, he's probably seen a lot worse with actual patients. It doesn't make it any less embarrassing, but it is comforting. He feels so bloated and awkward, self-conscious about his body, but then Ronan stops him in front of the mirror, rests a hand on Kaz's rounded belly and reaches up to guide his chin, forcing him to look at his reflection.

Kaz gasps, flushing at how red and puffy his eyes are, quickly forcing his gaze down to his belly. It's strangely erotic, a gratifyingly visual display of his endurance, how much he's taken inside him. He feels his confidence come back, chest swelling with pride, and his eyes flutter shut as Ronan brushes more soft caresses over his stomach. 

"Fuck," he whispers, leaning into Ronan's shoulder. "Fuck," he repeats. His own hand wanders down and he presses his palm flat over his swollen belly, weighing it, delighting in the curve of it. 

He's too dizzy,  _it's too much_ , and the urgency in his bowels is too great. He eases out of Ronan's arms and onto the toilet, and he's so desperate for relief that he can't even wait for privacy before everything comes rushing out of him. His face burns and he buries it in his hands, but then fingers are stroking peacefully through his hair, and he lifts his head, unthinking, and buries his face in Ronan's thigh, nuzzling into him as tears of relief roll down his cheeks. He jumps when he feels Ronan's other hand at his belly, rubbing the discomfort away as he empties. A hoarse sob gusts out of him, and then he's crying messily, hands clutching at Ronan's thigh for comfort.

"You're okay," Ronan says. "Crying is good, just let it happen." 

It's only a minute before his sobs calm into small hiccups, and then there's a hand under his chin, tilting it upward, and he closes his eyes as a tissue dabs at his face. It was a brief moment of intense emotional panic, but now that he's indulged it, he instantly feels better. 

"Can I have some privacy?" Kaz whispers.

Ronan nods and briefly returns his hand to Kaz's stomach. "Clockwise," he instructs, giving him a demonstrative rub before exiting the room, closing the door after him.

Kaz is freezing by the time he's done, no longer warmed from the inside out, but he doesn't think he's ever known a relief more profound. He marvels at his flattened stomach for way too long, gazing down at it and swiping his fingers over the lines of his muscles, wondering at how that much fluid could have ever fit inside him in the first place. That unsettling hollow of shame from before is completely gone now, and there's a strange euphoric confidence in its place. It felt good. He feels  _good_.

"You're shivering," Ronan says, crossing the room to wrap him in a warming embrace the moment Kaz comes back out.

Kaz hadn't realized how exhausted he was until just then, a tidal wave of lethargy washing over him the moment his face finds Ronan's shoulder. "Got cold after I emptied out," he mumbles.

Ronan eases past him and starts the shower, then motions for Kaz to get in once the water's warm enough. Kaz hesitates, too tired to stand for much longer, but the steam and warmth radiating over him are much too inviting to turn down. He lifts his hand and playfully hooks a finger into Ronan's collar as though to drag him in, then clumsily starts fiddling with his top button with little success. 

"Might need some help," Kaz says. 

Ronan's eyes shift upward in mock defeat, but he begins undressing without protest. They're practically nose to nose in the cramped bathroom, but Kaz really appreciates the heat rolling off of Ronan's body, the invigorating brush of skin on skin in such close quarters. He's in a bit of a trance as he watches him undress, a little too fascinated with the subtle shift of the muscles beneath his skin as he moves, the elegance of his fine-boned hands as he unfastens his buttons, the dark hair on his forearms. He's a little giddy, and he wonders with detached amusement at how much of a mess his head must be right now that he's this absorbed in such trivial details, mooning over a guy like some starry-eyed popinjay. 

A shudder undulates over him when he's gently guided under the warm water, a pang of excitement twisting his gut when he's carefully pivoted around by a firm hand on his hip. He pushes back against the touch of Ronan's cock, solid and firm against the cleft of his ass, then plants his palms on the wall and bends forward a little to really drive the point home. It's a little frustrating that it seems to go ignored.

" _Ro_..." He winces, he hates how needy he sounds. He coughs, clears his throat, and tries again. "Fuck me." It's not much better because it comes out cruelly flat and aggressive. An  _order_.

Ronan makes a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat, and Kaz hears the squelch of soap lathering into a washrag. "Gonna throw me in the brig if I don't, Commander?" 

Kaz straightens so that his back is flush with Ronan's chest, head tilting back so that it rests on his shoulder as he deflates on a regretful sigh. "Please. I'm really clean inside." 

Ronan laughs in his ear, and Kaz jumps when he feels the damp cloth on his belly, gently working upward over his chest, grazing his nipples. "I know you are. Later.  _Promise_."

Kaz sighs and allows himself to be cleaned off, body going limp underneath the careful lather of the washrag, instinctively grinding his hips when it's brought down between his legs. He opens his eyes and looks down in a small panic when his cock doesn't respond, still soft without so much as a twitch at the contact. His hand impulsively goes between his legs as though to hide himself, but Ronan gently guides it away. He knows there's no way he'd be able to get hard again so soon, but there's still that small reflex of inadequacy, the irrational compulsion to always be expected to perform.

Still, it feels pleasant. The heat of the wet cloth is strangely hypnotic as it massages his softened cock and the underside of his balls. He plants his feet a little farther apart when it migrates to the cleft of his ass, pressing his palms against the wall and bending forward again when the cloth licks over his hole. He has half a mind to beg Ronan to at least finger him a little, but it seems a little too degrading, too desperate. He's too lethargic to assert himself right now, anyway. Everything is too much of a blur, like he's trying to run underwater.

The last thing he remembers is being gently toweled off among disjointed bouts of awareness, and then the rattle of ice water being poured from one of those utilitarian plastic hospital pitchers and a cup pressed to his lips. He's so out of it that he has to be helped with that, too, and he lets himself be maneuvered by Ronan's practiced hands, allows his jaw to be tilted back, his mouth thumbed open, mechanically swallowing as water is gently eased down his throat. He's barely aware of Ronan's soft coaxing, sounding as though it's coming from the end of a very long tunnel:  _Come now, Kaz, all of it. Drink all of it. Very good_. A sympathetic hand bumps over his Adam's apple, massaging his throat, ensuring he doesn't choke. 

He's too drowsy, his limbs are too heavy, he's barely in control of his own faculties. It really feels like being drugged, making him so calm and heavy that it seems as though the ground is sucking him in and he can't break free. He thinks he feels his knees buckle.

When he starts awake, he has no recollection of lying down. Something tells him he'd been carried there, anyway. There's no light coming in through the tiny windows save for the hazy glimmer of moonlight reflecting off of the water, and he's cocooned under the blankets with a familiar warmth at his back, the comforting weight of Ronan's arm draped over his waist. It seems deceptively idyllic, that kind of calm so consuming that it's as though the bed might swallow him whole. 

Now that his head is clear, he reflects on how  _meek_  he'd been earlier, how uncharacteristically docile and fragile and  _pliable_  the whole thing made him. He's been sex-drunk before, but never like that. Never to the point where it influenced his decisions and behavior, his  _perception_ , even. It would be frightening if he didn't know he could trust Ronan completely with it, to not take advantage of it.

Kaz lets himself drift for a while, listening to the familiar pattern of breathing at his back, then absently reaches down to wrap his fingers around Ronan's wrist and delicately lifts it so he can fidget with his fingers. He presses his thumb into his palm, traces down the pulse in his wrist, bumps his fingers over the knuckles. Ronan's hands are so seemingly delicate in an almost misleading kind of way, so lithe and graceful. But even relaxed like this, Kaz can sense the strength in his very bones, the sturdiness of the tendons in his wrist. So very like Ronan in general; nonthreatening in nature, but capable of causing so much damage. If the need arose.

Kaz nearly jumps out of his skin when that hand lightly flexes in his own before artfully slipping out of his grip to smooth down his side and give his hip an affectionate squeeze. 

"How you feeling?" Ronan asks, speech slurred with sleep.

"Good," Kaz answers quickly, and even though it's true, it sounds defensive. He's still a little startled, afraid his quickened heartbeat will give him away. "Insides feel...refreshed," he adds thoughtfully. 

"How 'bout here?" Ronan asks, lethargically reaching up to tap Kaz's temple with two fingers. 

The question throws him, and he doesn't immediately answer. His head feels fine, other than the general fogginess of just waking up. 

"No nightmares or melancholy?" he elaborates.

" _Oh_ \- " Kaz sighs, then takes a measured breath as his heart slows. "No. I slept unusually well. I'm, uh...a little euphoric, actually. Why?"

Ronan's arm tightens around Kaz's middle and he nuzzles into the space behind his ear. "We pushed a lot of boundaries today. Sometimes the mind parses that as trauma. Just wanted to make sure you're in a good headspace."

Kaz responds with a blissful hum, tilting his jaw back at the inviting tickle where Ronan's lips just touch his neck. It feels too good, impossibly good, so soft and warm and sweet. "Sorry I fell asleep on you," he mumbles. He's losing his head already, can't seem to make his mind work quick enough to form any thoughts worth expressing.

"Don't be," Ronan says, his palm sliding reassuringly over Kaz's belly. "Edging comfort zones is very physically and emotionally exhausting. Drowsiness is expected. Rest as much as you need, Commander." 

He thinks he falls asleep again. Or rather drifts through several false starts of consciousness, his sleep-drunk mind sluggishly piecing together fragmented pulses of awareness. The lazy rush of waves outside. Light rain rattling against steel. The gentle rhythm of Ronan's breath gusting against the back of his neck. The tickle of Ronan's fingers drawing lazy figure-eights over his side, his hip, his thigh.

The chill of goose bumps they leave in their wake is what tugs Kaz back to the surface, his responding shudder arcing his bottom directly into Ronan's erection. He must still be awake because he responds with a gentle hip thrust at the sudden friction, and Kaz boldly pushes back again when he hears Ronan's swallowed grunt. The hand tickling his side firmly clamps down on his hip as their movements melt into subtle nudges against each other. It feels good, just lazily rubbing together like this, and Kaz absently reaches down to wrap his fingers around his cock. He's had time to sleep off his refractory period and then some, and now he's just as painfully hard as he was when they started.

He hasn't realized how achy his muscles have been until Ronan's fingers trace down his back and start massaging the space around his spine and across his shoulder blades, bringing relief he didn't know he needed. It's almost like the soreness after a thorough workout, like he'd been carrying all the tension of prolonged arousal in his back and limbs. Then there's the heat of Ronan's mouth on his neck, a muscled leg tangling with his, an arm wrapping around him to draw him close to crush their bodies together as they lethargically rock against one another. Kaz recognizes it for what it is, of Ronan making good on his promise from earlier. He always starts out like this, easing into it with teasing foreplay and inquisitive little touches, fleeting nips of teeth, warm embraces. 

It feels so strangely rewarding. Earlier it was all regimented and controlled, just Ronan impassively administering pleasure, seemingly removed from the whole thing, not quite clinical, but almost. Only in retrospect does Kaz recall some small, persistent gnaw of uncertainty he'd felt during the process, a subconscious wondering if Ronan was getting anything out of this, deriving any pleasure from it, the isolation that came with how detached he'd been. But now that Kaz can feel him, hard and ready against his ass, it's as gratifying as it is reassuring. 

"Roll over," Ronan whispers. It's low and husky, almost  _cautionary_ , breathed emphatically against Kaz's ear so that the heat gusting across his neck sends a shudder through his limbs.

Kaz doesn't need to be told twice.

He flips onto his belly with such eager urgency that it's almost embarrassing, but warm lips are immediately mouthing at the space between his shoulder blades, chased by soft kisses ghosting down the length of his spine. He groans when he understands where this is going, flattening his chest against the mattress as he hikes his ass up, ready for it. Ronan's palm delicately glides over his bottom, admiring it,  _appraising_ it, and then his thumbs are kneading into his cheeks, stroking him reverently, delicately spreading him apart as the kisses linger precariously at his tailbone. Spread apart like this, the air touching his exposed hole and Ronan's mouth so dangerously close, Kaz can't help the petulant whine that comes out of him, the impatient writhing that tenses his muscles. 

Then he feels the soft, wet press of Ronan's tongue flattening over his entrance, and some vulgar, throaty sound comes out of him that gets muffled into the pillow. Of course Ronan would reward him like this. It would almost be a waste, with as clean as he is back there now. 

Ronan's tongue drags over his hole, slow and cautious,  _hesitant_. Applying only enough pressure for Kaz to feel the wet heat there, but not nearly enough to give him the stimulation he craves. Kaz flexes his hips, bucks back in search of that tongue, an involuntary groan of impatience wheezing out of him. Strong hands lock him in place, clamping down on his hips to hold him there, and Kaz reluctantly stills, muscles twitching with the urge to writhe back onto that mouth. It's just the tip of his tongue circling the rim, flicking over him spontaneously, experimentally, as though gauging his reaction. 

Kaz's jaw goes slack, breaths coming shallow, swallowing another whine that threatens to escape him. There's this subtle, depraved behavioral conditioning in him to strive for obedience,  _compliance_ , this intrinsic understanding that if he's good, he'll be rewarded. Consciously, he knows that's not quite how his relationship with Ronan works, but it's always there just beneath the surface; this small, consuming desire to be on his best behavior, to not seem too needy or demanding lest he ruin a good thing.  

There's another slow, experimental lick, starting at his perineum and ending in a playful swirl around his entrance, soft tongue gradually applying pressure until it plunges inside. Kaz is drooling again, mouthing at the pillow, taking the fabric in his teeth to stifle his moans. Ronan's released his hips and his palms are resting so gently on his bottom now, idly petting him with fluttery strokes of his fingers while his tongue pushes into him, tickling his insides. There's something a little obscene about it, he thinks, how Ronan tends to kiss him back there the same way he kisses his mouth, tender and sweet. It's slow and careful, that tongue lapping into him lovingly, only pausing long enough to graze his teeth along the inside of Kaz's cheeks, teasing him with fleeting little bites dangerously close to his sensitive hole.

Kaz feels the sharp twist low in his belly, the familiar tightness in his balls, his pulse quickens and he bunches the sheets up in his fists, body going rigid. He knows he can come just from this,  _he's so close_ , he feels it almost claim him, but he won't waste it like this. He clenches his teeth, a panicked whimper gusting out of him, and the tongue teasing inside him retreats, only to be replaced by a tentative finger nudging curiously into him. 

Wordlessly, Kaz fumbles for the nightstand and grabs the bottle of lube from earlier, shoving it in Ronan's direction without ever surfacing from the pillow. A silent request. He's already so close, and he won't be spent in the middle of  _foreplay_. 

It's a battle not to lose himself prematurely while Ronan slicks him, his ass reflexively arching up at the first drip of lube down his crack, muscles quivering as Ronan's palm slides up the inside of one thigh to guide his legs farther apart. He grits his teeth when an inquisitive finger sinks into him, slow,  _always slow_ , his hips jump with the urge to fuck himself back on that finger but Ronan's hand is braced against the small of his back now, smoothing down to his hip to hold him in place. Another nip of teeth pinches the inside of his ass cheek, and a pleading moan leaves him when the finger inside him withdraws and two sink back in, opening him with slow, earnest pumps. More nips of teeth tease across his bottom, sinking mercilessly into the thickest curve of his ass so that Kaz yelps into the pillow, his impending climax coiling in his belly as it threatens to end him. 

" _Fuck_ , just skip the fanfare, I don't care if it hurts a little," Kaz growls. "Wanna really feel you," he mumbles, a demure edge creeping into his tone for fear of sounding impatient.

A reassuring hand glides over his bottom and the fingers ease out of him, the bed dipping a little as Ronan kneels up between his spread legs, wiping his hands off on a hand towel left at the bedside. Kaz already knows what he's going to do, and catches Ronan's wrist before he can reach the nightstand where the condoms must have been stashed earlier. 

"Leave it," Kaz gasps. 

Ronan freezes, fingers twitching uncertainly. "Commander...?"

" _I'm sure_ ," he says emphatically, turning his head so he can meet Ronan's eyes. 

"Okay," Ronan soothes, stroking Kaz's spine with his free hand as he gently wrests free of his grip. 

Kaz reluctantly folds his arms and buries his face in the crook of his elbow, skin flushed and buzzing. He realizes he's shaking, that it feels like his entire body is being pricked with thousands of hot needles, and he flexes his fingers as they begin to go numb. He isn't sure if he's dizzy or still shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, but it's a strange sensation, like he's detached from his body and floating somewhere just below reality, a vibration emanating from within his very bones. 

He doesn't expect the sting of tears at the wide, slick stretch of Ronan's cock cautiously pushing into him, hesitating just long enough to allow him to adjust and open up for him. They're not tears of pain, but rather relief. Or gratitude, perhaps. Like it's a final reward for his previous test of endurance, for being so clean. He's grateful that he's face down and Ronan can't see. Not that it matters, because the moment he feels the heat of Ronan's chest settling against his back, the sweet,  _sweet_  ache inside him as Ronan sinks into him, a small hiccup escapes him that he unsuccessfully tries to pass off as a gasp of pleasure.

Ronan mouths at his ear, nips at the soft flesh just below it, hand warmly squeezing Kaz's hip. "If you need to stop, we'll stop, but don't be afraid to express whatever you're feeling."

Kaz is weeping silently and it nearly draws a laugh out of him at how absurd it is, that he's been reduced to a teary mess in the middle of  _fucking_. This isn't typical at all, and he knows it's just the effects of everything they did, the increased sensitivity of pushing boundaries and relinquishing so much control, but as frightening as that might be, he relishes the feeling anyway. It's strange and unusual, but sweetly gratifying, and he finds himself curiously wanting to visit this place more, again and again. 

"Don't stop," he chokes, voice cracking as he impatiently bucks his hips back. 

It's awkward and sloppy at first, Kaz's desperate writhing in an attempt to meet Ronan's rhythm, but then there's the steady hand bracing his hip, patiently guiding him into a state of calm.

"Kaz, relax" he says, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of his neck. 

Kaz stills, white-knuckling the sheets under Ronan's careful thrusts. He's sniffling and whimpering into the pillow, subtly rocking his hips back in time with Ronan's gentle rhythm, blissfully leaning into the fingers that begin softly petting his hair. It's the tenderness that gets him, every time. He doesn't think he'll ever get accustomed to this level of care. It tugs at something deep between his ribs, has his breath catching and his eyes watering, how sweetly Ronan always fucks him, always with consideration and respect. A tiny part of him doesn't think he deserves it. A tiny part of him is terrified that it'll be taken away.

He chalks it up to drowsiness, that he's just sleepy and physically exhausted and that's why he needs this affection so much, but it's the purest feeling, the reassurance of this simple contact. The heavy thrum of Ronan's heart beating against his back, the heat trapped between their bodies, the lingering dampness from the nibbles to his neck and shoulder, the insignificant soreness with each measured thrust into him. He's torn between wanting to flip over and watch Ronan's face while he fucks him and just staying prone and vulnerable like this, blissfully safe and contained beneath Ronan's weight draped over his back. 

He feebly turns his cheek up, lips parted as he strains for a kiss. It's such a subtle, wordless cue that anyone else might miss it, but Ronan never does. He teases him with it for a bit, bumps his nose against Kaz's cheek, thumbing at his lip to make him open his mouth more. When Ronan finally latches onto his bottom lip and interlaces their fingers together, Kaz moans into his mouth and unravels a bit and he's  _there_ , he's close, he can't hold it off any longer. He knows Ronan feels him tense underneath him, because the hand leaves his hip and slides under him, fingers gliding tenderly down his belly to give his cock a hearty squeeze. 

That's all he needs. Kaz abruptly finishes with a hoarse shout, grinding his forehead into the pillow as he stutters out several jagged grunts. He feels the damp warmth of semen seeping onto the sheets beneath him, and Ronan softly continues stroking him until he cringes and recoils from the overstimulation, after which Ronan politely releases him. Listless and heavy, Kaz tightens his fingers around the hand still holding his and weakly bucks back again. He can already feel Ronan withdrawing, like this whole thing was for Kaz alone and that Ronan's own pleasure is irrelevant. 

"Finish inside me," Kaz mumbles breathlessly. 

He hears a resigned sigh above him, but then more fluttery kisses cover his neck, a nose nuzzles into his hair. "Don't you pass out on me yet," Ronan says, and the warning is punctuated by a sharp bite to the top of Kaz's shoulder, drawing a soft moan out of him. 

He's grateful for the buzzing heat that radiates out from the bite, because he can already feel himself spiraling, needing something to focus on so he doesn't slip under again. He's still so exhausted, feels so heavy that he can hardly move, and he'd be perfectly amenable to falling asleep with Ronan still inside him. Not that Ronan would ever allow it. 

Then he feels the tremor against his back, hears the hiss of breath and the stuttered grunt, and he chuckles at the vulgar words Ronan mouths against his ear as he climaxes. They sound so alien coming from him, from this man always so poised and professional and  _proper_. It's a little divine, he thinks, feeling Ronan's cock jerk within him, flinching at the wide, blunt pressure of him bottoming out inside him - that he'd been filled so completely earlier, flushed clean only to be filled again with Ronan's own fluids. It would be a little depraved if it didn't feel like the purest goddamn thing in the world. 

Kaz is so wiped out that he doesn't remember Ronan sliding out of him, only has brief flashes of awareness and vaguely feeling empty and wet inside, and then a delicate hand on one ass cheek, prying him apart as a warm, damp rag is pressed into him, softly probing inside him to get all the sticky wetness out. He's too lethargic and sated to be even remotely embarrassed by it. He appreciates the consideration, really; in the heat of the moment, with his balls tight and heavy and needy pleasure thrumming through him, the idea of having a partner come in him is a toe-curling novelty, a risk he doesn't often get to take. That usually changes five minutes after he pops off and the itchy moisture seeping out of him becomes a regretted nuisance. He has half a mind to ask Ronan to use his tongue, knows full well that he'd do it at his request, but it feels too selfish with as much as he's already done for him, so he doesn't.

"Can we do it again tomorrow?" Kaz finds himself muttering instead, unthinking, surprised that he's asking for this with such shameless abandon. He doesn't sound like himself, sounds a little drunk, actually, but  _fuck_  he wants to do it again.

"Probably not a good idea," Ronan says, settling back down beside him. "There is such a thing as being  _too_  clean, and you definitely don't want that. You don't want to be flushing out all the good bacteria your body needs, you'll start destroying the mucous lining of your intestine," he explains, sliding his palm under Kaz's stomach and giving it a playful pinch that makes him squirm. "By the way, I want you to have a cup of yogurt at breakfast tomorrow, replenish some of the gut flora you lost today."

Kaz huffs softly into the pillow. Always the medic, even during downtime. So regimented, yet so nurturing. It's a lot of what Kaz loves about him.

"So...when can we?" he asks, turning onto his side and rolling into Ronan's waiting arms. He hates to think he might be growing addicted to the feeling, addicted to that weird high that comes with the unconventional things they do. He isn't sure if that's a dangerous thing, is still afraid it's a thing so wonderful and undeserved that one day it may inevitably be taken away.

Ronan laughs, but it's light and amiable, more  _knowing_  than mocking. "I'll make you a deal," he whispers, nuzzling at his temple, "Next time can be my turn."

Kaz's stomach flips, pulse ratcheting up instantly at the mere suggestion. 

Ronan tightens his arms around him and brushes his lips over Kaz's hair, his temple, gently takes his chin and tilts his face up to kiss his brow and cheekbone. "That is, if you're comfortable with it," he adds. 

Kaz intends to say something, to have some kind of response more eloquent than the guttural groan that comes out of him, but just the visual of Ronan being on the receiving end of it, of being prone and vulnerable like Kaz had been already has his cock twitching to attention, even as spent as he is right now. He entertains the idea of it as he drifts off, lazily rocking his half-returned erection into Ronan's hip. Ronan is speaking to him in a low tone, and Kaz barely registers him saying they can do it again in a week if he really wants to. 

* * *

At breakfast, Kaz is calmer than usual. He feels especially  _agreeable_ , perhaps a little too relaxed. It takes a moment to recognize the mellowed feeling of being well-rested, a thing he doesn't get the luxury of experiencing too often. He slept remarkably well, though that isn't surprising, he supposes.

He'd puzzled at Ronan's firm instructions earlier, that if at any point in the day he felt suddenly lethargic, confused, or irritable out of nowhere to come see him  _immediately_  - something about endorphin depletion and the psychological aftereffects of pushing comfort zones - but right now he's never felt more refreshed. Not just physically, either, but emotionally. Like his entire mood was cleansed as well. Now that he's rested and dressed, sunglasses neatly back in place, he finds himself shamelessly looking forward to the next time they can do it, his palm subconsciously lighting on his stomach as his cock stirs at the thought.

Just as he joins Snake at their usual table, he spots Ronan moving toward them, heart jumping into his throat at the sight of him. It still makes Kaz a little nervous, interacting with him in front of the Boss. Ronan's in a rush, though, he's up for his shift and can't stay long, but he stops next to Kaz just long enough to wordlessly set a cup of yogurt in front him, flashing a knowing smirk that thankfully Snake doesn't notice, then takes his leave. 

Kaz feels the flush radiate to the very tips of his ears.

Snake stares after him, his eye bored and distant as he absently chews his food. "He's a good medic," he says thoughtfully. 

**Author's Note:**

> [g a r b a g e](http://saintambrose.tumblr.com/)


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